


Rewrite the Stars

by iWantSushi



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, but i really like the song anyways so i stole the title lol, they kind of relate if you squint a little, this barely has anything to do with the song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 06:42:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18805807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iWantSushi/pseuds/iWantSushi
Summary: Youngjae doesn't think his broken heart can be healed. A hopeless romantic comes and proves him otherwise.





	Rewrite the Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iwillkeepitlow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillkeepitlow/gifts).



> vaguely inspired by rewrite the stars from the greatest showman   
> long fic i haven't bothered to edit to this day (sorry)

                 Winter claims the city through frosted streets and whispering winds, snow falling like ash from cotton clouds and coating the ground with wax and powder. The air houses a curious blend of both peppermints and smothered cigarettes, litter and asphalt marring patches of white as Youngjae stands restlessly aside.

                He breathes in the breeze and reminisces. Familiar scents arouse memories of mellow laughter and teasing touches, tracing his skin like the gentle brushes of a distant ghost. Youngjae remembers that once, the sight of white falling from the sky used to bring him a certain sense of wonder and excitement. It brought him back to cups of hot chocolate and innocent kisses in the morning, amorous nights spent strolling through streets of ribbons and blinking lights. Winter, for a long time, had been Youngjae’s favorite time of the year.  

                But now winter feels like nothing more than crumbling walls and creaking floorboards.  When he moves, his limbs ache, brittle from the cold and heavy from hours spent staring into space. Empty mugs and emptier nights fill the season, the fog of his breath in every exhale the only indicator of life existing in his decaying home. Youngjae learns over and over again what it’s like to feel his heart break as he wakes up to an empty bed every morning, an apartment that is meant for two growing colder and colder without the blessing of another person’s warmth.

                Youngjae fled from his home that afternoon, an action he’s done many times before, hoping that the bout of fresh air could somehow clear his haunted mind. It’s become a habit of Youngjae’s, or an _addiction_ almost, to wander the streets of a city too big for someone so easily broken. Youngjae doesn’t look for anything in particular, neither does he _go_ anywhere in particular. Instead, he wastes his breath and dreams of the man who used to kiss him under streetlights, his taste reminiscent of hazelnuts and blissful ignorance.   

                His thumb rubs over the silver band around his finger, cool to his touch, the memories it conveys gradually freezing and shattering into dust.

                Youngjae’s aimless roaming leaves him with sore feet and a bleary glare, eyes perpetually blinking in a vain attempt to stay awake. The sky dims around him, the coming of dusk tainting his tongue with a bitter taste. Honestly, he doesn’t know why he does this to himself. At home, his memories are nightmares. Outside, his memories are dreams. But they’re the same fragile fragments of his past, and they consume more of him each hour. Every memory Youngjae fails to let go of is another piece of him taken away.

                With a weary breath, Youngjae settles down on a rusting chair outside a small café, stretching his legs and rubbing his knees to rekindle some warmth. The crisp winter air gently lifts the stray strands of his hair and he closes his eyes, letting the cool temperatures wash over his skin.

                He opens his eyes, and his gaze meets another only inches from his own.

                Youngjae jumps out of his seat with a yelp, his hand immediately coming up to cover his mouth as he backs away from the person before him, embarrassment coating his cheeks at the rather pathetic sound he’d made. Amusement sparkles in the stranger’s eyes, and Youngjae frowns at the sight of it in slight distaste. He opens his mouth to spit something out in retaliation, but he falters at the sight of the oddly endearing smile gracing the stranger’s handsome face, Youngjae’s breath hitching in his throat as the tips of his ears unwittingly redden.

                “Sorry,” the stranger says, his voice like velvet, “I didn’t mean to sweep you off your feet.”

                Youngjae’s lips part in confusion, brows quirking at the strange choice of words until he finally notices the broom held firmly in the other’s hands. The words process, and it takes Youngjae a moment to gather his senses, gaze trailing from the broom to the stranger’s tousled, peach-colored hair, and then to that odd, whiskered grin, his gentle voice echoing quietly in his ears.

                Youngjae blinks once, twice, three times before eloquently stammering, “What?”

                The stranger chuckles, leaning the broom against the side of the table and taking the seat opposite from Youngjae. His gaze is tender. “I’m Daehyun,” he says with an offer of his hand.

                Youngjae gives him a peculiar look before carefully taking his hand and shaking it, awkwardness evident in the stiffness of his fingers. “Youngjae,” he returns out of courtesy, slowing sinking back into his own seat.

                Daehyun’s grin widens in response, and Youngjae curiously flushes, scrambling to look anywhere else but that charming smile. He finds his distraction in the employee nametag peeking from behind Daehyun’s unzipped coat.

                “Do you work here?” Youngjae asks him without meeting his eyes, referring to the café beside them.

                Daehyun hums. “I do, and I was wondering what you were doing out here in the cold. You’re allowed inside, you know,” he teases, amusement highlighting his tone. “Are you lost or something?”

                “I could ask you the same thing,” Youngjae dismisses instead of answering, unwilling to admit his hopeless wandering. “I mean, shouldn’t you be working instead of talking to someone who isn’t even a customer?”

                His words come out harsher than he intended, but Daehyun surprises him with a lighthearted laugh. “My shift just ended, actually,” he explains, a certain sparkle in his eyes. “I was just getting ready to go home when I saw the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life sitting right outside.”

                Youngjae blinks, the pink that dusts his cheeks conveying his surprise. A part of him is a little impressed with Daehyun’s straightforwardness, but Youngjae masks his intrigue by clearing his throat and averting his gaze. He honestly doesn’t even know what to say, unable to keep up with Daehyun’s strange pace.

                “I’m talking about you, by the way,” Daehyun adds, as if worried that Youngjae somehow might have missed the fact that he was blatantly flirting with him. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

                Normally, Youngjae would scoff at such overused advances, but something about the way Daehyun presents himself comes with a level of authenticity Youngjae hasn’t seen in quite a while. His eyes are surprisingly sincere for a stranger wooing another stranger. It’s strangely comforting.

                “Are you calling me a _thing?”_ Youngjae asks him, feigning offense.

Daehyun’s eyes widen, an apology immediately spilling from his lips much to Youngjae’s own amusement. The sight of Daehyun’s flustered expression is endearing enough to hold Youngjae’s full attention, the latter’s lips lifting ever so slightly.

                “Of course not, I-I didn’t mean it like that.” Daehyun scratches his head, looking as if he’s searching for a better term through the bare tree branches above. “I only meant that you are more beautiful than every person I’ve met, every sight I’ve seen, and every moment I’ve lived. _Thing_ isn’t the best word to use, but…your beauty is _unparalleled.”_

                Youngjae stares blankly back at Daehyun, a bit stunned by the odd confession. He loses his words and looks away, a strange feeling stirring in his chest at the sincerity in his Daehyun’s voice. It’s intriguing, the humble nature of Daehyun’s gaze yet the confident spark that follows every blink reminds Youngjae of someone _else_ , and just like that, Daehyun’s warm gaze and kind smile morph into cold stares and expressions of apathy.

                The diamond on his ring is rough against the pad of his thumb, edges almost sharp enough to cut. He can still hear its barren promises, a constant reminder of what he has lost etched into his skin.

                Daehyun is only a stranger. Youngjae shouldn’t indulge himself in his words so earnestly. He should save his breath for the few friends he manages to have.

                But friends always tend to become strangers again over time. Youngjae has seen it happen over and over again. It makes it all the more difficult to warm up to others.

                People always seem to leave no matter who they are.

                “Sorry, am I coming on a little too strong?” Daehyun asks him suddenly, and when Youngjae looks at him again, his smile is sheepish. “I’ll turn it down a little…that is, if I haven’t completely ruined my chances with you yet.”

                Youngjae swallows. He can already feel himself falling back into the abyss he locked himself in.

                “Beautiful is a tired word,” Youngjae utters, distracted, almost, his tongue tasting of sugar and ash. “Uninspired and overused. It lost its meaning to me a long time ago.” His eyes dart to the side, unwilling to hold Daehyun’s stare, and he misses the way Daehyun’s breath catches with his words.

                The silence that sits between them grows increasingly uncomfortable for Youngjae, and the broken parts of him beg him to run away. To the creaking floors and crumbling walls of a place that feels far too empty to be called a _home._ Daehyun watches him with soft eyes, sorrow reflected in his irises, and for a foolish second, Youngjae sees the man who once wrapped his scars and kissed him to sleep. He blinks, and the vision vanishes as Daehyun’s kind smile returns.

                Youngjae’s fingers curl together. He lifts a hand, brushing it through his hair in an effort to disperse his thoughts. Daehyun’s expression suddenly falls.

                “I’m sorry,” Daehyun bewilderedly heaves, forcing out an awkward laugh. “I didn’t realize you were already taken, um—” Youngjae’s brows furrow in confusion at the shift in Daehyun’s spirit, surprised when the latter avoids his eyes, “—I’ll just…I’ll just leave you alone, then,” he quietly finishes, hurriedly standing to his feet with a disheartened look on his face. Youngjae tries not to think about the way his heart stretches at the sight, and it only takes him a second to realize that Daehyun had been referring to the ring on his finger.

                He gazes down at the little ring, rolling his lip between his teeth as the frigid diamond stares lifelessly back.

                “I’m not…taken,” Youngjae softly admits, and Daehyun stills, confusion evident in his eyes. Youngjae smiles at him, and the words taste like iron. “Not anymore.”

                Daehyun stares back at him, his expression unreadable. “But your ring…” he trails off, a little breathless, and his tone lingers in the air.

                Youngjae looks down and does not answer, thumb rubbing over the small band. He can feel Daehyun’s eyes on him but cannot find the will to stare back, not while his lower lip trembles, heart yearning for the person who promised him a lifetime.

                Daehyun slowly sits back down, understanding in his eyes as he rubs the back of his neck in thought. “Some things are hard to let go of,” he says after a moment, blinking through a gust of wind.

                Youngjae’s lips lift in melancholy. “They’re even harder to forget,” he whispers, and he forces himself to look back up, fractured gaze meeting an unwavering stare.

                “You don’t need to forget,” Daehyun tells him gently, carefully, as if afraid of breaking someone already so torn. “Not if you find it in yourself to move on.”

                Youngjae’s gaze falls, darkening at once. For some reason, Daehyun’s words feel like strikes against his skin. He feels appalled that Daehyun, some _stranger,_ is giving him advice about something he knows nothing about.

                “It’s that easy, huh?” Youngjae lets out a humorless laugh. _“My mistake.”_

                The sun nears the horizon, and Youngjae gets up, leaving without another word. He sees confessions in the sidewalks and promises in the murals on the walls, but there are cracks in the concrete and chips in the fading paint. Nothing ever lasts, but the memories always linger.

                Daehyun calls out his name, but Youngjae does not look back. He tugs his coat closer to his chest to smother his aching heart, the sorrow in the stranger’s tone drifting in the wind and following him home.

 

-

 

_Youngjae has grown to be afraid of the dark._

_Things lurk in the shadows, hidden, unseen._

_He hates the late nights most of all. He can hear everything, the crickets outside, the pipes in the wall, the whir of the heater._

_Yet he doesn’t see a thing through the darkness._

_Not even those that are right in front of him._

               

-

 

                No matter how much the seasons change, the city’s park does not. Even during winter, the park is still filled with families, couples, bunches of children and adventurous friends. Despite its redundancy, Youngjae finds it a little less lonely here. The holiday lights shimmer in the trees, and people smile when they meet his eyes.

                He settles on a bench on the outskirts of the park, a good distance away from the fountain in the center, a piece that is always popular despite the lack of water during this season. Snow embellishes the ground, frost-tipped wreaths and ribbons hanging from every branch of every tree and every arm of every streetlight.

                A gust of wind blows by, and Youngjae fingers his scarf, the cologne of the one it once belonged to lingering in the wool.

                Youngjae feels the bench dip ever so slightly beside him, and when he glances over, he meets a familiar pair of eyes.

                “It’s good that you’re resting,” Daehyun greets him with an eyebrow quirked playfully, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “You must be tired from running through my mind all day.”

                The scent in his scarf is replaced with the aroma of coffee and freshly baked cookies. Youngjae shakes his head in silent amusement despite the way his skin shivers. “Hello, Daehyun.”

                Daehyun’s eyes brighten up. “So you remembered me,” he says a bit breathlessly, but Youngjae only shrugs his shoulders, ignoring Daehyun’s sparkling gaze. “I was worried you would have forgotten me after the way we parted last time, but I knew we were destined.”

                “How did you find me?”

                “Easy. I followed my heart,” Daehyun answers, and Youngjae has half the mind to punch him for his shameless words. Daehyun then lets out a low chuckle at the aggravated look Youngjae gives him, pushing his glasses back into place. “Okay, the coffee shop is just down the road and I wandered through this park every day after work in hopes of maybe running into you again. I just thought the _followed my heart_ bit sounded less creepy.”

                “It did,” Youngjae agrees with a soft chuckle. “But why would you waste your time like that? There was a good chance I’d never show up again. I could be from a different city altogether for all you know, _disappeared_ without a trace.”

                “Ah, I didn’t need to worry about that,” Daehyun reassures him, waving the doubts off as if they hadn’t occurred to him at all. “All hopeless romantics like to wander the city in search for their true love.”

                Youngjae’s neck bristles, and he gives Daehyun an incredulous look. “I’m not searching for my true love,” he says, eyes squinting a little as his mind wanders to the scent on his scarf. “I don’t believe in stuff like that anymore.”

                Daehyun is silent for a moment before a small smile lifts his lips. “I don’t believe you.”

                “What?” Youngjae frowns when Daehyun’s smile only grows. “What would you know? This is only the second time we’ve met.”

                “Exactly. It’s been nearly a week since we last saw each other, and you still have that same look in your eyes,” Daehyun tells him.

                “And what look is that?”

                “The look of someone who wishes to love and be loved,” is Daehyun’s answer, and Youngjae nearly lets out a laugh.

                “Do you always say things like that?” Youngjae asks him, a certain strain in his voice that doesn’t go unnoticed. “It’s starting to become a little embarrassing.”

                “Well, my friends always did like to call me a dreamer,” Daehyun says, a bashful smile on his lips as he scratches his neck. “Embarrassing lines kind of come with the deal.”

                Youngjae stares back at Daehyun for a moment before giving him a small smile. “So what is it that you want, daydreamer?” he questions, deciding to humor Daehyun’s peculiarity. “You spent every day looking for me and now you’ve found me. Nobody does that unless they want something.”

                “You caught me.” Daehyun grins. “I actually wanted to see you for two things.”

                “Two for the price of one meeting? I don’t know if that’s fair,” Youngjae quips, and Daehyun regards him with a warm smile.

                “You seem to be in a better mood today. I’m glad,” Daehyun says, his glasses reflecting the afternoon light for a moment before revealing his enamored eyes. “Can I ask for an exception? It’s hard to track down a wandering soul.”

                Youngjae tilts his head to the side, a sign Daehyun soundly takes as acceptance.   

                “First, I wanted to apologize for what happened during our last meeting,” Daehyun begins, the sincerity in his eyes catching Youngjae off guard. “I didn’t mean to offend you…or stir up any bad memories.” He truly looks sorry, and Youngjae shifts in his seat, fighting off the uncomfortable color on his cheeks. In all honesty, Youngjae had reflected on the incident and deemed Daehyun relatively harmless. As strange as Daehyun is, Youngjae doesn’t think he’s a bad guy.

                “You don’t need to apologize, I was just being…moody,” Youngjae says with a cough, covering his lips with his scarf. “If anything, I should be apologizing to you for leaving so rudely.”

                “Moody or not, it wasn’t fair of me to speak to you so dismissively over something I clearly know nothing about,” Daehyun explains earnestly. “I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries. Forgive me?”

                Youngjae swallows, timidly avoiding Daehyun’s honest eyes. “And what’s the second offer?”

                A grin graces Daehyun’s lips, accepting the change in tempo despite the lack of a proper pardon. “Dinner.”

                “Dinner?”

                “With me.”  

                Youngjae’s heart skips a beat, but he smothers it quickly with another cough. “The whole thing about not believing in love didn’t give you a hint on how I feel about relationships?”

                “And my searching for you every day for a week doesn’t give you a hint on how I feel about _you?”_ Daehyun counters with a teasing lilt. “I know it’s a strange follow-up to my apology, but I like you. A lot. I waited all week to see you again, and I didn’t want to waste my opportunity to ask you out in case you really do _disappear without a trace.”_ He lets out a soft chuckle. “But if the idea makes you uncomfortable, why don’t we call it a dinner between friends instead?”

                Youngjae ponders the idea, balancing the possibilities on a light scale. “Calling it a dinner between friends doesn’t change anything,” he utters after a moment. “I don’t want to lead you on.”

                “You won’t be. I’ll treat it as if we’re friends, too,” Daehyun reassures him with a nod of his head. “Please? I’ll beg if I have to.”

                “It…it doesn’t feel right,” Youngjae stammers, avoiding Daehyun’s attentive gaze. “You said you like me, but I’m not ready to commit to anything and I’m afraid I might end up…”

                “Liking me back?” Daehyun softly supplies, and the look he regards Youngjae with is so gentle it renders Youngjae breathless.

                “M-Maybe? I just…” Youngjae bites his lip, still so unused to Daehyun’s straightforward nature. “I don’t want to risk anything. Not…not now, not ever…” The scarf suddenly feels heavy on his neck, the nostalgic aroma within its threads dizzying his already frayed mind.

                Daehyun stares at Youngjae as if discerning his thoughts. He carefully reaches for Youngjae’s hand, and when Youngjae doesn’t pull away, he gently takes it and coaxes Youngjae to look at him. Youngjae fights off an odd feeling in the back of his throat, blaming the pink on his cheeks to the chill of the wind around them.

                “Don’t call it a risk,” Daehyun softly says, gazing intently into Youngjae’s eyes, but the latter quickly looks away. “Call it a chance, instead. All I ask for is a chance.”

                The scent of coffee returns with the breeze, comforting like the warmth of a blanket on a cool winter morning. But the ice on the window doesn’t thaw, and all it takes is a single breath in the air to remind Youngjae of how cold it truly is out there.

                “I’m sorry, Daehyun,” he whispers. “I can’t take another chance.”

 

-

 

_He feels the loneliest on Friday nights._

_Youngjae spends those evenings curled up in bed, shivering, shivering, shivering as the memories run through his head. He smells the cologne through the withered sheets, almost feels someone’s touch brushing his skin as he clutches his pillow close. Youngjae’s teary eyes never leave the silver on his finger, the diamond pressed delicately against his lips as he continues to dream of waking up to him in the morning._

_He always leaves the door open, praying that the man who disappeared on a Friday evening would finally return tonight._

 

-

 

                The theater is probably one of the oldest buildings in the city, yet it still manages to be the most ornate. Youngjae always admired its antiquity, the array of lights and golden curtains an inspiring sight despite the fading bricks in the walls. He’s not _that_ into plays, but as the holidays approach, so does the return of the famed _The Nutcracker._ It became a tradition for him to see the show every year, but he wonders how he’ll be able to continue his practice this December.

                It’s never fun to see a show alone.

                Youngjae lets out a soft sigh, rubbing his gloved hands together and placing them over his cheeks in an effort to warm his skin. He stares up at the banners hanging over the pillars of the theater, the familiar sight of the wooden toy comforting despite the Nutcracker’s beady glare.

                He brushes some snow away from the base of a pillar with his boot, peering around the structure to glimpse at the ticket booth behind. His heart beats with a childlike excitement at the prospect of seeing the show once more, but he stands anxiously in one place as he recalls the seats in the back of the theater, an arm around his shoulders and a bucket of chocolate-covered popcorn shared between two. Youngjae remembers feeling foolishly in love as they listened to _Pas de Deux,_ a kiss to his fingers as the strings winded up, heart thumping with the drums as he watched the couple twirl on stage.

                _It’s too much,_ he thinks with a withered breath. He can’t watch it. Not alone.

                Youngjae’s hands clench into frustrated fists as he turns around, only to come face-to-face with those familiar eyes once more, a shout slipping from Youngjae’s lips in instinct.

                Daehyun beams at him despite his little scream, fixing his glasses back into place and clearing his throat in a ceremonious manner. “I’m writing an essay on the beautiful things in life,” Daehyun says, shuffling through the packet of papers in his hands, and Youngjae braces himself for what’s to come. “Can I use you as an example?”

                Youngjae squints at him, unsure of how to feel about running into this peach-haired stranger for the third time. “Are you stalking me?”

                Daehyun lets out a laugh. “No, I’m not actually. This time, we really did meet by chance.” He pauses, a certain twinkle in his eyes. _“Chance._ A wonderful word of possibilities. Don’t you like the way it sounds, too?”

                Youngjae ignores the question, casting Daehyun a doubtful look. A week and a half has passed since they last saw each other. Youngjae thought he’d driven Daehyun away for good, but a small part of him is a little relieved to see that the other hasn’t quite given up on him yet. Daehyun is an interesting person, to say the least.

                Daehyun heaves a dramatic sigh, feigning heartbreak as he stares innocently back at Youngjae’s accusatory glare. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m serious! Running into you this time was purely a coincidence!” He pauses. “I’m actually an aspiring actor, and this right here is my script.” He holds out the packet of papers he had for Youngjae to see, and one glance at the print affirmed Daehyun’s words. “I just came out of an audition, and I feel good about this one, too.”

                Youngjae peers at him carefully, trying to seem indifferent. “Don’t you work at that café?”

                “Well, while brewing coffee does have its charms, I’m not planning on making a life out of it,” Daehyun answers with a wink. “What about you? What do you do for a living?”

                “Um…” Youngjae swallows at Daehyun’s intent gaze. “A daycare worker.”

                “Really?” Daehyun looks at him in surprise. He smiles warmly when Youngjae nods. “I’ve always loved children. Dreamed of having twenty.”

                Youngjae raises an eyebrow. “What woman would want to go through that?”

                _“Dreamed,_ I _dreamed_ of having twenty. Presently, I’ve scaled it down to a reasonable six,” Daehyun clarifies, moving to slip his script into his sling pack. “And no woman would have to. I’d like to adopt them all.”

                “That’s…still a lot,” Youngjae utters, somehow embarrassed by this conversation.

                “Is it?” Daehyun asks. “What would you say is a good number?”

                Youngjae frowns a little, crossing his arms over his chest as he ponders the question over. “Two? Maybe three?”

                Daehyun hums, almost as if enlightened. “I can live with that if it’s with you.”

                Youngjae immediately flushes. “Hey, I—”

                “I’m joking,” Daehyun says with a light chuckle. “Kind of. Are you free tomorrow night?”

                Youngjae gives Daehyun an incredulous look, a little dizzied by the exchange. “I-I am.”

                “Wonderful! How does Italian sound?”

                “O-Okay?” Youngjae stammers. “If you’re asking me out to dinner again, the answer is still _no.”_

                Daehyun pouts, and Youngjae swallows down a lump in his throat. “Even if it’s just between friends? I promise I won’t try anything, and you won’t be leading me on.”

                Hesitation halts his breath as Youngjae shifts his gaze to the side, suddenly feeling very exposed. “Why do you want this so badly?” Youngjae asks, rubbing his arm. “You don’t even know me. I could be the worst person on earth for all you know.”

                “Because I like you, Youngjae,” is Daehyun’s reply, simple enough to leave Youngjae without words. “I know it sounds weird and a little creepy, but when I saw you through that café window, I wanted nothing more than to take you into my arms and make you smile. You looked so sad out there, and it broke my heart to see someone so beautiful look so _lost._ And even now, this is the third time I’ve seen you and you still have that same expression on your face. I don’t know what or who took your smile away and left you like this, but even if we can only be friends, I want to return it to you.”  

                Bits of snow begin to drift down from the sky, settling on their shoulders like little stars. Youngjae can do nothing but stare back at Daehyun, too stunned by his rather spontaneous answer to properly respond. His gloved hands fidget together, fingers slipping over the ring buried beneath wool.

                A snowflake lands on Youngjae’s hand, dissolving into the fabric within seconds. “I don’t know if you can.”

                Daehyun’s gaze softens, and he carefully takes Youngjae’s hand in his. “Give me a chance,” he pleads. “All I want is a chance.”

                Youngjae can feel how cold Daehyun’s hand is through the wool. He snivels, taking his other hand and wrapping Daehyun’s fingers in the warmth of his gloves. Daehyun looks up in surprise, breath hitching in his throat at the sight of the small, grateful smile on Youngjae’s lips, traces of snow clinging to his lashes.

 

-

 

_They were together for six years._

_He promised him more._

_Youngjae remembers the small cake in his hand, the hazelnut and mousse, the date hanging on the wall._

_He wasn’t supposed to be home that night. Youngjae pretended he had to be at his parents’ house that weekend for a family emergency. His lover had been very understanding, encouraging Youngjae to be with his family during their time in need. It was all a lie of course, Youngjae only wanted to surprise his lover on his birthday._

_But Youngjae wasn’t the only one who lied._

_The cake was never eaten._

_And six years didn’t mean anything anymore._

 

-

 

                The restaurant had a very homey feel to it. Youngjae had taken the booth in the furthest corner, gazing quietly out the window at the busy streets, the falling snow. The low murmur of conversations from tables around him provides a comfortable atmosphere, complemented by the dimmed lights above and the ever present aroma of fresh basil.

                Youngjae catches a glimpse of his reflection in the window, and he gently brushes his fingers through his bangs, idly fixing his appearance to pass the time. Moments later, he meets eyes with someone else through the glass, and Youngjae turns around to Daehyun’s warm smile.

                “Well, don’t you look handsome,” Daehyun greets him, the sparkle never leaving his eyes as he pulls out a bouquet of pale roses from his back. “For you,” he offers with a dramatic bow, and Youngjae gapes at the presentation in surprise.

                “Roses?” Youngjae questions him, suspicion evident in his stare.

                “Roses of _friendship,”_ Daehyun clarifies with a wink, the bundle of pink accentuating the white of his dress shirt.

                Youngjae stares at Daehyun for a few seconds more before letting out an amused scoff, taking the roses and peering at them curiously. “Nice save, _friend,”_ he says, and the warmth on his cheeks matches the subtle shade of the petals. “You’re twenty minutes late. Is this a habit of yours?”

                “No, not at all,” Daehyun tells him with a quick apology. “I got caught up in something.”

                “In something?”                  

                “In your eyes,” Daehyun says dreamily, laughing at the disgruntled expression that takes Youngjae’s face. He takes the seat across from Youngjae, a small smile on his lips as he explains, “There was a rather troublesome customer who came into the café just as my shift was ending. I would have left sooner, but she kept demanding I remake her Triple, Venti, Half-Sweet, Non-Fat, Caramel Macchiato with extra whip or else she’d ‘ _have a word’_ with my manager. I had to remake it about four times before she was finally satisfied.”

                Youngjae’s lips purse in distaste. “That sounds ridiculous.”

                “I’ve had worse,” Daehyun dismisses it with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “And I may or may not have been a little distracted all day by the idea of seeing you again.”

                “…I never know what to say when you say things like that,” Youngjae utters, a bit embarrassed by Daehyun’s words.

                “You don’t have to say anything. Unless of course I’m making you uncomfortable. Then you can tell me to shut right up, and I will,” Daehyun tells him. Despite the joking lilt in his tone, Youngjae can sense the sincerity in his voice.  

                “I…don’t mind it,” Youngjae timidly admits, looking anywhere but Daehyun’s eyes. “You’ve been here before, right? What should I get?” Youngjae hurriedly asks in an effort to change the subject, taking a menu and flipping it open to peer at the selections displayed before him.

                Daehyun releases a low hum as he crosses his arms over the table, watching Youngjae with an intent look on his face. “Anything. I’ve had just about everything on that menu at least once.”

                “Really?” Youngjae gives him a look of intrigue. “Well, at least give me some recommendations to make it easier.”

                Daehyun acquiesces, and by the time their waitress takes their order, the two are left with their own thoughts, Youngjae trying his best not to fluster under Daehyun’s intense gaze. It reminds him of lazy Saturday mornings in bed, lying in between his lover’s arms and basking underneath the gentle glow of the sunlight. Youngjae shakes his head to rid himself of the memory, forcing himself to passively return Daehyun’s stare.

                “Why do you keep staring at me?” Youngjae finally decides to question him, fingers curling around the base of his glass like a delicate anchor for his beating heart.

                “You mean besides your dashing good looks?” Daehyun says with a little grin. “You look a little happier today, and I like it.”

                Youngjae’s gaze falls to his lap, a little sheepish as he recalls the bit of excitement he felt that morning at the prospect of eating dinner with Daehyun. He told himself he was simply glad that he would have company for a night. Youngjae is quite tired of feeling lonely all the time. Daehyun, though strange, is a welcomed change to these subdued days.

                When Youngjae doesn’t say anything, Daehyun tilts his head towards the window to their side, changing the subject for him. “We’ve been getting a lot of snow lately.”

                Youngjae glances over, watching as snowflakes drifted onto the windowsill. “Thankfully nothing too major. I’m not a big fan of shoveling.”

                “I used to shovel my neighbor’s sidewalks as a kid,” Daehyun says, a sentimental smile on his lips. “I found it fun somehow, and sometimes my neighbors would thank me with a nice meal or some cash. My brother and I used to have contests to see who could make the biggest snow mountain. I usually won.”

                “Maybe I should hire you to shovel my car out in the mornings,” Youngjae says as he sips from his glass of water.

                Daehyun chuckles. “I wouldn’t mind. I mastered the art of shoveling years ago.” He then lets out a wistful sigh, nostalgia filling his eyes as he stares out the window. “No matter how old I get, somehow the sight of snow still makes my heart race.”

                Youngjae follows his gaze, patches of white sparkling in the distance. “It is rather pretty.”

                “I love winter,” Daehyun shares as he turns to Youngjae with that same twinkle in his eyes. “While the holidays are fun, I always liked the atmosphere the most. People are friendlier, more giving, more loving. There’s a celebration in every corner of every street. Snow comes down and coats the streets in white, almost like a blank page. People of all cultures and backgrounds then come together and decorate the canvas with reds and greens and stars and angels. It’s like a painting we all make together, wrapping the year and all its moments up in one, pretty little ribbon.”

                Youngjae hums, a bit intrigued by the perspective. “Is winter your favorite season?” he asks him.

                “It is, but not for those reasons.”

                “For what, then?”

                Daehyun gives Youngjae a soft smile. “For the sole reason that I got to meet you.”

                Youngjae’s heart skips a beat, Daehyun’s smooth voice an enthralling tune that leaves him rather breathless. He should be used to Daehyun’s playful flirting by now, but his way with words always manages to catch Youngjae by surprise anyways.

                “You always know just what to say, don’t you, Daehyun?” Youngjae quips with a light grin.

                Daehyun’s own smile only grows. “There it is,” he says. “The loveliest smile I’ve ever seen.”

                Youngjae feels his heart race, Daehyun’s enamored gaze like a hazy glow of light. He finds himself unable to say anything back, trapped in Daehyun’s eyes, so friendly and warm like the scent of coffee that clings to his clothes.

                “You looked so lonely that day at the theater,” Daehyun suddenly says, his voice taking a low timbre, his expression almost sad as if the thought of Youngjae’s loneliness pained him more than anything else. “I was surprised to see you there in the first place and thought that maybe you were just on one of your city escapes, but you looked so sad and conflicted. Like something was tearing you apart. It broke my heart.”

                Youngjae frowns, lip between his teeth as he glances down at the ring on his finger. “I…was having a hard time deciding whether or not I should see the show,” Youngjae softly explains, lightly rubbing his thumb over the diamond. “It’s no big deal, really, I’m sorry to have worried you.”

                “Why not see the show?” Daehyun asks him, interest in his eyes as he discerns Youngjae’s expression. “Have you not seen _The Nutcracker_ before?”

                “Well, no…just the opposite. I see it every year,” Youngjae answers, a bit sheepish as he peeks up at Daehyun through his lashes.

                “Oh. Bored of it, then?”

                “Not at all.” Youngjae bites his lip, unsure of what to say as he stares uneasily back at Daehyun. “It’s just…normally I would see the show with my…um…” he trails off, but Daehyun does not need to hear the end to know who Youngjae is referring to. Youngjae gives him an abashed smile. “I don’t want to see it alone, so I just…I don’t know.”

                Daehyun deeply inhales, eyes softening upon hearing Youngjae’s words. “It’s never fun to see a show alone,” he says in a thoughtful manner, meeting Youngjae’s gaze with his own. “Shall we go see it together, then?”

                Youngjae blinks at him. “What? Really?”

                “Mm, really,” Daehyun says kindheartedly. “You won’t have to go alone and I get another excuse to see you again. I’d say it’s a win-win situation, yeah?”  

                “A-Are you sure?” Youngjae asks, already feeling heat in his cheeks under Daehyun’s attentive stare. “I mean, tickets are kind of expensive and the show is really long—”

                “I know,” Daehyun tells him with a little laugh. “But it’ll be worth it if I get to see you smile again.”

                Something sparks in Youngjae’s chest, a strange heat delving through his body and warming his skin. For some reason, he felt _excited._ His fingers tingle with the sudden urge to touch Daehyun’s hand, but he holds himself back, lips lifting into a soft smile instead. Daehyun nearly melts at the sight of it.

                “I’ll see you there, then.”

 

-

 

_Youngjae loved him._

_He really did._

_Only something as consuming as love can pull a man to his knees. Youngjae loved him, and he was willing to forgive every lie despite the pain in his chest and every little insecurity that came with it. It was almost pathetic, how desperate Youngjae truly was for him, how desperate he was for the love from a man he naively thought was his._

_Youngjae gave his heart to him, but he still left him like he didn’t feel it breaking in his hands._

_And he hasn’t given it back._

 

-

 

                It’s Friday night again. Tonight, Youngjae feels particularly restless.

                Every little thing, from the groan of his bedframe to the soreness in his feet seals him from his sleep. His mind runs wild with fever dreams of sweet lies and the gripping scent of hazelnuts. His skin aches with a certain tenderness that longs only for the arms of another, the temperature in his room dipping with the most unbearable shivers.

                The world suddenly feels too big and he, too small. Distances increase and the warmth is dispelled from his body. What is left is a pale shadow of what once was. Youngjae’s teeth clench together, the stickiness in his eyes he cannot rub away depriving him of his dignity. The tears fall without his permission, midnight the only witness to his shame.

                His phone rings and time halts. Youngjae’s hands are shaky as he retrieves the device from his drawer, the white screen nearly blinding him through the darkness. Daehyun’s name appears before him, solid lines of black offering him a distraction. It’s what he needs.

                Youngjae turns to lie back against his pillows, fingers wiping at his eyes as he releases a trembling breath and answers, “Hello?”

                _“Oh.”_ Daehyun’s voice is pleasantly soft. _“You’re actually awake.”_

                Youngjae snivels, willing himself to maintain his thinning breaths. “…And what if I wasn’t?” he asks in a gentle yet playful tone, too afraid to speak too loudly in case his cries betray him.

                _“Then I’d feel guilty for waking you up, but, um, I knew you were awake of course,”_ comes Daehyun’s frivolous answer. His lighthearted words bring comfort to Youngjae’s scattered mind.

                “And how did you know?”

                _“We have a connection. I could feel it through my pores,”_ Daehyun tells him, and Youngjae laughs despite the stains on his cheeks.

                “That’s gross, Daehyun,” Youngjae speaks into the phone, the sound of Daehyun’s laughter through the speaker sending pleasant sparks down his spine. “Do you need something?”

                _“Your hand in mine.”_

                “No, really, Romeo,” Youngjae says with a roll of his eyes, but Daehyun’s words bathe away the bruises on his skin. “Why did you call so late at night?”

                _“Well, I may or may not have been scrolling through our texts and swooning to myself over how adorable you are…and I may or may not have accidentally called you in the process,”_ Daehyun answers with that soothing timbre of his, and Youngjae can almost hear the smile in his voice. _“…But now that I think about it, that doesn’t sound as cool as saying ‘I just wanted to hear your voice,’ so, Youngjae, my dear, I just wanted to hear your beautiful voice.”_

Youngjae somehow finds it in him to feel embarrassed for Daehyun, a low but fond sigh escaping his lips. “You’re so ridiculous,” he playfully chides, his cheeks a dust of pink.

                _“And you sound adorable over the phone. Hey, do you remember the dessert we had at that restaurant that one day?”_

Youngjae lifts an eyebrow. “We’ve been to plenty of restaurants, Daehyun.”

                _“The one from last week. No, wait, the week before that. Ah, the one for your birthday! The place with the fancy little salt and pepper shakers.”_

“That was three weeks ago, genius,” Youngjae tells him, his heart fluttering in his chest as it suddenly dawns on him just how long he and Daehyun have been spending time with each other. Since the night of the show, they started to hang out together more regularly, and Youngjae has grown to really enjoy Daehyun’s company. His mere presence is like a candle flame, a bright and vibrant warmth held close to Youngjae’s heart.

                _“Details, details. What really matters is the dessert! I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since we had it, and I’ve only found the time recently to try and imitate it.”_

                “Oh, not only are you a barista and an actor, but suddenly you’re also a chef?”

                _“I sure am. A good one, too. My mother says my quiches are unparalleled.”_

“Hmm,” Youngjae hums. “I think I’ll have to judge that for myself.”

                _“You can, this Sunday. I’ll be attempting to recreate that sinful chocolate soufflé, and I could use a sous chef who knows how to work a fire extinguisher in case my momentous quest ends up in flames. What do you say?”_

                “Where’s the quiche come into play?”

                _“It’s my secret weapon. Should you refuse to come this Sunday, I’ll send you pictures of it and my sobbing face to guilt you into coming anyways.”_

“Oh no!” Youngjae feigns a gasp. “I guess I’ll have to come then.”

                _“Will you? Oh, god, now I actually have to find that recipe and impress you with my culinary prowess.”_

                Youngjae lets out a soft laugh, oddly thankful for this eccentric call at 1 in the morning. “I’m looking forward to it.”

                _“As am I.”_ Daehyun heaves out a dramatic sigh. _“Though it pains me to say farewell, I must go to bed now. I have rehearsal in the morning, after all. Good night, Youngjae.”_

                Youngjae smiles, and he forgets what was even hurting him in the first place. “Good night, Daehyun.”

 

-

 

_What good comes from being honest?_

_It’s unfair, Youngjae thinks, because the truth often hurts more than the lie. He blissfully lived a lie for six years, unscathed and content until the truth had been exposed. Youngjae wonders if he’d be happier now if he never returned home that Friday night. Would he be happier if he never discovered the truth?_

_Really, what good comes from being honest?_

_It feels as if those who live with honor are the ones who work for frauds. The people who climb are the people who lie, steal, cheat, and betray, while those at the bottom cling onto their integrity, for that’s all they really have._

_The world really is unfair. Youngjae has lived his life sincerely, wholeheartedly, dedicating his love to a man he thought would do the same for him._

_Honesty, in the end, is really just a choice, while love is anything but._

_The world is unfair, and Youngjae clings onto a fractured, unrequited love. It’s all he really has._

_Love is not a choice._

_If it was, there would be no pain._

 

-

 

                Youngjae has never been to Daehyun’s apartment before. He isn’t quite sure what to expect from him, but as promised, Youngjae is greeted with a quiche as soon as he steps through Daehyun’s front door.

                The first thing Youngjae notices about Daehyun’s place is its humble interior. His apartment is smaller than Youngjae’s, studio style, but its lived-in nature reminds Youngjae of Daehyun himself, actually. The decorations here and there are a little spontaneous but something about the home’s transparency submerges Youngjae in a comforting warmth.

                They have lunch together, and because Youngjae has never actually had a quiche before, Daehyun’s quiche impresses him by default. It’s good enough for Daehyun, and as they finish their slices, they scour through the many chocolate soufflé recipes Daehyun has saved in his phone, shoulders brushing as they peer at the same tiny screen.

                With dishes washed and a recipe chosen, the two set off to Daehyun’s kitchen, Youngjae staring at the rather excessive amount of ingredients and materials set out on the counters. Daehyun assures him that ten dozen eggs are absolutely necessary. Youngjae notes that the fire extinguisher is only a few feet away from the oven.

                Daehyun’s apron is neon orange of all colors. He says he’s used it since he started baking as a child, and he hands Youngjae an apron with carrots on it to match. When Youngjae asks why he has to wear the apron with carrots all over it instead of Daehyun (because frankly, he found it rather tacky), Daehyun explains to him that it’s because Youngjae is the _cream of the crop._ Youngjae then decides to stop asking questions.

                Needless to say, they never end up making that perfect chocolate soufflé. They manage to bake plenty that taste absolutely fine to Youngjae, but Daehyun spends a good ten minutes sobbing dramatically in the corner, crippled by the fact that he could not imitate the dessert that stole his heart three weeks ago. Youngjae uses the leftover eggs to bake a few pancakes to cheer Daehyun up. Somehow, that works.

                So now, they sit, eating pancakes for dinner while the television plays softly in the background. Youngjae discreetly watches as Daehyun stuffs his cheeks, fondness stirring in his chest as he relaxes in his seat, for once without worries or that bruising feeling of loneliness.

                He likes Daehyun. He really does.

                Youngjae gives Daehyun the last of his pancakes and Daehyun finishes them within a few minutes.  The two settle into a comfortable silence, Youngjae scooping up the last of their soufflé experiments with a small spoon.

                “They’re really not that bad,” Youngjae comments idly as he finishes the dessert, setting the emptied cup to the side. “I think you did a good job.”

                “Mmm…not _bad,_ but they could be better,” Daehyun says with a slight pout. “I suppose I can always try again. That is, if my cute little sous chef is willing to assist again?”

                “Get me a new apron, and then we’ll talk,” is Youngjae’s flat reply, and Daehyun lets out a laugh.

                “Did the carrots really bother you _that_ much?” Daehyun asks him, his amusement clear in his eyes despite the way Youngjae complained about the fakeness of baby carrots the entire day.

                “It looked tacky,” Youngjae utters with a shrug. He leans back against his seat, glancing absently around the apartment. “So what do we do now? Anymore plans for tonight?”

                Daehyun taps his chin in thought for a moment before shaking his head. “No, not really. I was hoping we could just bask in each other’s presence for a while, but if you have somewhere to go, I won’t keep you.”

                “I have no other plans either,” Youngjae tells him, and Daehyun gives him a soft smile.

                “Then bask in each other’s presence it is.”

                Youngjae laughs. “And what does that entail?”

                “Anything, really,” Daehyun says. “We can watch a movie, play a game, share heartfelt life stories…You can decide.”

                Youngjae pouts, gaze wandering around Daehyun’s small apartment in search of something to do. While Youngjae didn’t mind a movie or two, he’d much rather listen to Daehyun talk for a while. Daehyun’s voice always manages to soothe Youngjae’s aching heart, a comforting distraction from the pain of his memories. Little things like the silly way he speaks and that ever present glimmer in his eyes captures Youngjae in a daze revolving around Daehyun and only Daehyun. Youngjae feels as if he’s found a true friend in Daehyun, a person he wholeheartedly believes is irreplaceable.

                Just as Youngjae decides to take Daehyun’s offer on sharing heartfelt life stories, he spots an acoustic guitar sitting at the foot of Daehyun’s bed just across the living area. Youngjae raises an eyebrow in interest, turning towards Daehyun. “You play the guitar?” Youngjae asks him, curiosity evident in his gaze.

                Daehyun glances over at the instrument in question, lips parting slightly as if only then remembering that it was there. “Only back in college, for a little while. I used to play on the streets with a bunch of my buddies for fun, got a few tips here and there,” he answers, a thoughtful look suddenly filling his eyes. “I wonder what they’re all doing now…” Nostalgia settles in his features, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

                “You haven’t kept in contact with them?” Youngjae questions, and Daehyun only shakes his head. “Why?”

                “We all had our own paths to follow, I guess,” Daehyun says, tone sentimental as he recalls his old friends. “Most of them found a job and a love and settled down with a family while I took everything I had and moved to some city hours away.”

                “You moved here?” Youngjae asks him, brows pulled together in surprise at the revelation. “What made you want to leave?”

                Daehyun seems to pause, eyes shifting a bit to peer down at his empty plate. “I just felt out of place where I was. While I do miss my friends, I don’t regret my decision. It’s harder out here, that’s for sure, but I feel more… _liberated_ in this city. Like I can do anything, meet _anyone.”_ Daehyun sends Youngjae a soft smile. “I’ve felt more at home here than I ever did anywhere else.”

                Youngjae’s gaze drifts to the side, Daehyun’s words reawakening the pitfalls of his mind. “I get that, the feeling of being out of place,” he quietly says. “It’s like disconnecting from your surroundings. I wish I could stop this feeling, but it’s so hard to forget…” His thumb rubs over his ring once more, a soft sigh escaping his chapped lips.

                Daehyun does not miss the action. “I find that it helps to get away sometimes. Though I suppose that’s why you wander the city, right?”

                Youngjae shifts in his seat, still unwilling to look Daehyun in the eyes. “I guess so. It…doesn’t really help, though…not to me, at least.”

                “Well, what _does_ help you?” Daehyun asks, and Youngjae looks up at him in surprise. “Sometimes, when I can’t clear my mind by simply getting away, I like to distract myself by doing other things. Baking is just one of my many little distractions.”

                Youngjae bites his lip, the word _you_ nearly slipping from his tongue. He feels his cheeks heat up at the thought, unable to fathom the fact that Daehyun had been the first answer to pop up in his mind. He meets Daehyun’s gaze with a timid one of his own, suddenly feeling rather shy.

                “Um,” Youngjae says, “your quiche.”

                Daehyun stares at Youngjae for a moment before letting out a loud laugh, eyes curled into little crescents. “I was expecting something a little deeper than that, but okay. I’ll make you more quiches from now on, then.”

                Youngjae blinks as Daehyun gets up, the latter picking their dishes up and heading over to the kitchen. Immediately, Daehyun’s question crosses his mind again, and Youngjae sits back in his seat, watching Daehyun move about his home with furtive eyes. The sight of Daehyun stacking dishes by his sink is strangely endearing, his heart speeding up in his chest ever so slightly.

                Youngjae pulls his legs up and quietly listens to the sink run as Daehyun begins to wash their dirty dishes, his thoughts beginning to wander to their many encounters over the past couple months. Their first meeting felt so far away, yet its very memory still manages to bring a slight smile to his face. Youngjae is grateful Daehyun had sought him out despite the way he had treated him. He truly couldn’t imagine how he would live now without Daehyun’s comforting presence by his side. Daehyun manages to bring a smile to his face even on the darkest days.

                Their odd friendship really is the only thing Youngjae has left.

                “Thank you, Daehyun,” Youngjae breathes out just as the sink turns off, his voice like the waft of a gentle breeze.

                Daehyun seems to still in surprise, glancing over his shoulder and fixing Youngjae with a look of question. “For what?” he asks, wiping his hands against a towel before turning around and returning to the table, eyes never leaving Youngjae’s curled up form.

                Youngjae inhales deeply, a soft smile slowly gracing his lips. “For everything.” Daehyun’s expression melts into that of awe, but before he can speak, Youngjae continues, “I know I haven’t told you before, but you’ve really helped me. You’ve made me laugh when I thought I couldn’t, you’re always there for me even when you don’t realize it, and just…thank you, Daehyun. For being such a wonderful friend.”

                “You don’t need to thank me, Youngjae,” Daehyun says, his own eyes gentle and filled with affection. “I promised I’d do anything to bring your smile back, and I’ll _keep_ doing anything just to keep it there.”

                _Promise._ A promise.

                Youngjae’s gaze falls to his ring, the little diamond reflecting another man’s eyes into his own. When he looks up, Daehyun’s stare meets his, and it almost feels as if he can see through his very soul.

                _Promise._

                Youngjae isn’t sure what comes over him, but tears suddenly slip from his eyes, trailing down his cheeks like drops of rain.

                Daehyun’s eyes widen in alarm. “Youngjae?” he calls out, worry in his voice. “Shit, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry—”

                “No, don’t…don’t apologize,” Youngjae breathes out with a light laugh, wiping the tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. He feels ridiculous. “I…I don’t know what came over me. It’s silly – I’m silly – let’s just forget this happened.”

                “Youngjae…” Daehyun utters. “Do you want to talk about it?”

                Youngjae shakes his head, a shaky smile on his lips. “No, I’m fine, really…just…” his words trail off, eyes suddenly falling on the forgotten instrument on the other side of the room. “H-Hey, why don’t you play the guitar for me a little? I’d love to hear you play.”

                “But—”

                “Please, Daehyun,” Youngjae says in a quiet voice. “Just one song.”

                Daehyun stares silently back at Youngjae for a few moments before he finally gives in, reluctance in his eyes as he leaves to retrieve his guitar.

                _Promise._ It continues to linger in his head.

                It’s a word that never fails to break his heart.

                “I...haven’t played in a long time, so I’m probably really rusty now,” Daehyun quickly says as he returns, settling on the edge of his bed as he strums a few chords on the instrument experimentally. He cringes a little, murmuring something to himself before glancing back up at Youngjae, a somewhat shy look on his face. “Um…do you want to come over here?”

                Youngjae swallows, nodding his head lightly as he slowly gets up and joins Daehyun at his bed. He sits carefully on the corner, hands folded over his lap as he listens to Daehyun’s attempts to tune his guitar. Youngjae peers up at Daehyun, blinking at the concentration in the latter’s eyes, the slight frown in his brows that quirked with every pluck of his thumb against the strings.

                “…Any requests?” Daehyun asks him, and for once he actually sounds a little nervous.

                Youngjae only shakes his head, sending Daehyun a reassuring smile despite the remnants of tears on his lashes. He doesn’t want to think anymore.

                Daehyun softens at the sight of him, and he adjusts the guitar on his lap, fingers tapping the wood of the body lightly as he purses his lips in thought. “Alright, then. Don’t laugh if I mess up.”

                “I won’t,” Youngjae reassures him, and that’s all Daehyun needs to begin.

                Daehyun’s lips lift ever so slightly as he positions his fingers on the fretboard of the guitar. He strums a few experimental chords, hands gradually adjusting to the strain of their positions, meeting Youngjae’s eyes briefly before his gaze falls back on the frets. Slowly, Daehyun finds his rhythm, producing a gradual chord progression that reverberates from the guitar and echoes throughout the tiny apartment. He hums a low melody to himself, quiet enough that Youngjae almost doesn’t hear it over his strumming, but the deep rumble is mesmerizing all the same. A few beats later, Daehyun opens his mouth and begins to sing.

                Youngjae’s breath hitches in his throat as he listens to Daehyun sing a song from a long time ago. Daehyun’s voice, though a little rough and out of practice, is unmistakably _raw,_ the slight trembles that emits from his throat as he holds his notes sending delicate shivers down Youngjae’s spine. The song is laced with sentimentality, lyrics nostalgic of a simpler place, a simpler time.

                Somewhere between the verses, Youngjae is drawn back to a quiet night under the stars, his lover strumming the same tender tune on his own guitar, his raspy voice almost a whisper as he sings the words Youngjae knew by heart. Youngjae always did love to hear him sing. His voice was beautifully sensual, a sonorous timbre that gripped Youngjae by his heart and compelled him to sing along, too. He meets his lover’s eyes and feels his breath leave his lungs, but as Youngjae reaches out to touch him, the illusion vanishes, and Daehyun returns, a little more confident this time, yet vulnerable all the same.

                Daehyun has a different type of passion in him as he sings. His voice is sweeter than Youngjae’s ex lover’s, but mellow and mature in its own nature, every note rich and lingering, emotion breathed into every slight hitch of his tone. It’s inspiring enough to reawaken a part of Youngjae that he thought he had buried when his heart broke into pieces. Daehyun’s voice is like an invitation to another world.  

                This song always was meant for two.

                Youngjae’s fingers gently curl over the fabric of his sweater, and like he once did with his past lover for six years, he begins to sing along, his own voice husky with hints of honey.

                Daehyun falters for a moment, the sound of Youngjae’s shaky voice harmonizing with his nearly taking his breath away. Their eyes meet at once, their voices melding with the music in such a way their hearts begin to race. Youngjae holds on to every note that Daehyun draws out, and little by little, two voices become one.

                Youngjae finds himself unable to look away from Daehyun’s enamored stare, even as their voices dwindle, even as the music fades into silence, even as his heart stutters in his chest. He doesn’t dare to blink nor breathe, too mesmerized by the rich brown of Daehyun’s eyes, the addicting aroma of coffee from his clothes, the striking beauty of _him._

Daehyun. His friend who makes him smile.

                Daehyun. His friend whose voice melds perfectly with his own.

                Daehyun. His friend. Youngjae’s wonderful, _wonderful_ friend who has liked Youngjae since the beginning.

                And Youngjae.

_He might like Daehyun, too._

The guitar is set on the ground by their feet.

                Daehyun’s fingers find Youngjae’s chin, his touch soft and warm, so, _so_ warm.

                Their gazes never part.

                Daehyun looks as if he has a million things to say, but he settles for one.

                “There is no one on _earth_ as beautiful as you.”

                Snowflakes fall to the ground in the world outside.

                The cold apartment suddenly becomes very, _very_ warm.

                He barely blinks when they move.

                Daehyun kisses Youngjae into his sheets, their bodies melding together as naturally as the sun dipping under the horizon. Youngjae’s fingers thread their way through Daehyun’s hair, a fire burning with every beat of his heart as their lips lock together in a feverish heat, spontaneous like each of their meetings, each of their moments. _Spontaneous,_ like them. Daehyun tastes of the coffee he brews and the sweet maple of the syrup he had poured all over his pancakes, a dizzying mix that is just so explicitly _Daehyun_ that Youngjae melts right into his grasp, fully submerged in Daehyun’s delectable world.   

                Daehyun pulls away, and Youngjae finds himself enraptured by his hazy eyes. He wants nothing more than the man above him in that moment, Youngjae’s desires making themselves known as he draws Daehyun down to his lips once more. Youngjae wraps his legs around Daehyun’s hips, a choked moan escaping his throat as Daehyun presses against him. Daehyun’s hands roam around his body, slipping beneath Youngjae’s sweater and trailing over his bristling skin. Youngjae grips onto Daehyun’s hoodie, tugging at the collar in a plea to rid them of their obstructions, but Daehyun grabs his hand and holds it firmly in place.

                Youngjae blinks the haze away, eyes finding Daehyun’s through the cloud of this dream, his breath faltering at the sight of hesitation in Daehyun’ expression. Daehyun shifts above him, holding Youngjae’s hand delicately against his chest, allowing Youngjae to feel his thumping heart. Youngjae gazes back up at him in confusion, only to feel Daehyun’s thumb rub over the silver band around his finger, Daehyun’s own stare filled with a sadness Youngjae has never seen before.

                Youngjae bites his lip as Daehyun’s gaze travels to the ring, his sorrow evident in his careful touch. Time seems to slow as Youngjae’s mind drifts to the past, to the nights he spent tangled with his lover, morning spent in each other’s arms, basking under the sunlight, the diamond a glittering sight at the break of dawn. Youngjae then wanders back to Daehyun, to his arms, to his smile, to his gentle breath against his skin, to the sincerity of every word he’s ever spoken, to the kindness of his heart.

                The ring slips off and Youngjae tosses it to the side. He barely registers the sound of it clattering against the floor as he captures Daehyun’s lips with his, and within seconds Daehyun reawakens, his hands gripping Youngjae’s hips as he grinds down against him, a breathless call of Daehyun’s name escaping Youngjae’s trembling lips.

                Their clothes decorate the ground like patches of snow. Daehyun lavishes Youngjae’s skin with loving bruises as he spreads his legs apart, Youngjae unraveling against the sheets when Daehyun pushes his fingers into him. His desire for Daehyun grows stronger and stronger as time passes, the heat around them rising to an almost unbearable height. Desperation sinks into Youngjae’s system as he rocks back against Daehyun’s hand, and Daehyun’s touch briefly disappears. Youngjae waits with bated breath, his mind a mess as his body thinks for him, skin tingling with need. Daehyun presses kisses against his neck, hooking Youngjae’s legs around his waist and pushing himself in.

                Youngjae arches against the bed as Daehyun breathes sweet whispers into his ear. The world seems to spin around them, their bodies linked together in a passionate _pas de deux_. Daehyun moves as if every thrust is his last and grips Youngjae’s hips as if every touch is a treasure. Their exploits echo across the small apartment, sweat dripping from their foreheads as the bed rocks against the wall, time slipping from their fingers like beads on a string. Daehyun seals their lips together and buries himself deep, drowning in Youngjae’s heat, reveling in his breathless cries. Youngjae recites Daehyun’s name like it’s his mother tongue and digs into Daehyun’s shoulders like the world might collapse at any moment.

                Little by little, they lose themselves to the rapture of their hearts. Daehyun runs a trail of fireworks down Youngjae’s skin, stars bursting in Youngjae’s vision as a world of color blossoms before him. Youngjae bathes in Daehyun’s intoxicating aroma, clinging close and submitting to every sugared-coated whisper. They kiss to anchor themselves together, Daehyun feeling as if the world is in his hands as Youngjae sends him into a resounding rhapsody of their own making.

                The last bead slips away and they fall into a timeless dream. Daehyun pulls away then pulls him close, wrapping his arms around Youngjae’s waist and falling asleep to his heavenly scent.

                The night settles into silence as the snow freezes into ice outside.

                Youngjae is the first to wake up, his mind swimming with the thoughts he thought he locked away.

                His thumb rubs over his finger, but nothing is found.

                When Youngjae looks at Daehyun, he sees a future of kaleidoscopes and symphonies, a fairytale they write together under the doting eye of the moon. Youngjae dreams of reaching stars that high, but the sky tears into pieces as he grazes it and the world falls into reverse. Youngjae remembers what it’s like to have his heart broken, and the risks he feared so deeply pile up into broken glass and dissonant notes, ink spilling over the pages of a story they never get to finish.

                Daehyun is a prince of many promises. He reminds Youngjae of someone _else,_ and that’s exactly why Youngjae can’t afford to let him in.

                Youngjae makes his choice and cuts the ribbon that ties their stories together. He shivers as he stumbles through the city, that night becoming nothing but a bittersweet memory.

                In the morning, Daehyun wakes up with empty arms. The space where Youngjae lied is freezing to his touch, as if he had never been there at all.

                   

-

 

_Some things are hard to let go of. Some are even harder to forget._

_Youngjae wants to live without attachments. That way he never has to let go. He never has to forget._

_Memories are too burdensome. Love is even worse._

_He can’t afford to feel sentimental._

_It’s lonely being alone, but perhaps it will hurt less than being abandoned again._

 

-

 

                Winter begins to melt away as small patches of grass begin to peek from within the cracks of the sidewalks. Youngjae sheds his scarf and dawns a lighter coat, a light smile on his lips as he bows to a happy couple, waving goodbye to their daughter and watching the little family disappear around the corner. He nods to his coworkers and takes his leave first, hands in his pockets and eyes to the ground. It’s been weeks, and Youngjae no longer wanders the city, too afraid of being seen, of being opened.

                He thinks he can move on. He thinks he can forget.

                He thinks he can end a story before it’s been written.

                But Youngjae can’t.

                He still clings on.

                And like a fool, his heart breaks over and over and over again.

                At this point, he’s sure it can’t be fixed.

                But as he’s done multiple times before, Daehyun comes to prove Youngjae wrong, his glasses crooked and hair frayed by the wind, panting and panting but determined all the same, eyes conveying his refusal to let Youngjae go.

                Youngjae _is_ a fool, because no matter how many times he tries to slam the book shut, their stories will continue to be written as long as Daehyun holds a pen.

                “I finally found you again,” Daehyun heaves, and he inhales deeply as he catches his breath from running, adjusting his glasses back into place.

                Youngjae looks away, breathing a shaky sigh of his own. “Congratulations, you did it.” His tone is cold.

                “Where did you go?” Daehyun asks him, stepping forward in an effort to close the distance between them. “Why did you leave? Why have you been ignoring me, my calls, my texts, my—”

                “That’s none of your business,” Youngjae snaps, hands clenching into fists in his pockets. The phantom pain of the ring on his finger burns his flesh.

                “It is my business, Youngjae. You became my business the moment we kissed—”

                Youngjae gives him a disgusted look. “That night meant _nothing_ to me.” His heart breaks a little with his own words. “It shouldn’t mean anything to you, either.”

                “But it _does,_ Youngjae,” Daehyun says, and Youngjae takes a step back. “That night means the _world_ to me, and I know it does to you, too.”

                Youngjae’s teeth grit together, his heart beating with an affinity for Daehyun’s voice, longing to be close to him, to take him into his arms once more. But Youngjae can’t let that happen. He can’t hurt himself again. “You’re mistaking one night of vulnerability for love,” Youngjae gripes.

                “It’s quite the opposite, actually,” Daehyun disputes. _“You’re_ mistaking _love_ for vulnerability.” He steps forward once more, catching Youngjae’s wrist. Daehyun’s grip is gentle enough for Youngjae to pull away, and he does. Daehyun wavers, but he says anyways, “It’s okay to fall in love again.”

                Youngjae feels eyes begin to burn, but he digs his nails into his palms and swallows down his tears. “I don’t believe in love anymore. It’s nothing but a pretty word for desperation.”  

                Daehyun’s gaze falters. “Youngjae—”

                _“I gave you what you wanted,_ didn’t I?” Youngjae snaps, unable to bear this any longer as Daehyun stares back at him in shock. “Just leave me alone, Daehyun. _Please,_ just leave me alone.” He turns to leave, but Daehyun grabs his wrist again, firmer this time, just enough to force Youngjae to look back at him.

                “I’m not leaving you,” Daehyun breathes out. “Not until you tell me the _truth.”_

Youngjae feels his skin tremble in fear with the mere mention of the word, and he quickly shakes his head, tugging his hand free from Daehyun’s grasp. “I already gave you the truth. I gave you _everything,_ didn’t I? Just take it all and leave already, take it all and leave so I can forget about you and him and _everyone—”_

_“Him?”_ Daehyun repeats, and his eyes flicker towards Youngjae’s hand, void of the silver ring. “Is that what _he_ did to you? He _used_ you?”

                “No…no…he didn’t do anything—”

                “Then _what,_ Youngjae? What did he do? What did he do to hurt you so deeply that you don’t even bother to believe in love anymore?”

                “Nothing, he didn’t do anything—”

                “Then _why_ won’t you let me in?” Daehyun asks him, frustration in his voice but an inconceivable amount of _pain_ in his eyes. “Why can’t you let yourself fall in love?”

                “Because he _cheated on me!”_ Youngjae cries out, and every wall around him breaks at once, revealing himself to the stranger from the café. “Because he said he loved me for _six years, promised_ he’d love me for _thousands more_ but cheated on me anyways! He cheated on me, cheated because he was sick and tired of the same old _me.”_ Youngjae lets out a shaky breath. “But I didn’t want him to leave me. I loved him so much I was willing to turn a blind eye, I was willing to let him cheat and stab me in the back as much as he wanted as long as he stayed with me. _But he didn’t._ He left me so he could have sex with someone else, six other people, thousands of other people, it didn’t matter. That’s all he wanted – all he _ever_ wanted, but I guess that all anyone ever wants, right? People like him and you and everyone in this _damn_ world. You’ll just grow sick of me like he did and fuck off to find someone else, fuck off while I cry and beg you to stay with me _anyways_. I wasn’t enough for him, and I won’t be enough for you, too.”

                Daehyun’s own eyes fill with sympathy, but Youngjae only looks away as tears begin to slip from his lashes. “Youngjae, I promise I would _never—”_

                “What good are promises when all people do is _break_ them?” Youngjae shakes his head, wiping furiously at his eyes. “I can’t do it again, I can’t do _this_ again. I can’t let myself fall in love because I don’t ever want to feel that type of pain again. I can’t do it, I just _can’t._ I’m not enough, I’m _just not enough.”_

Silence falls between them, Daehyun for once looking as if he’s at a loss for words. Youngjae’s breaths are broken by his sobs, unable to do anything but stand there and cry, cry, and _cry_ all the tears he held back since the night he left Daehyun. He feels pathetic, absolutely _pathetic_ and disgusted with himself for falling apart.

                “I was cheated on once, too.”

                Youngjae looks up, gazing back at Daehyun despite the tears that stained his cheeks. “What?”

                Daehyun gives him a sad smile, the pain so clear in his eyes it stretches Youngjae’s heart. “I was cheated on once, too,” Daehyun confesses again, his voice a bit shaky as he speaks, “It hurt, it hurt _so_ _much_ that I even moved to an entirely new city just to get away from it all _._ I spent every day wondering what I did to deserve that type of pain. I thought about all the years that were taken from me, all the years I wasted loving someone who didn’t give a _damn_ about me. And for a little while, I almost gave up on love, too.”

                Youngjae swallows, unable to look away from Daehyun’s broken smile. A small part of him wonders who would ever cheat on a person like Daehyun, on someone so _kind_ and _loving_ and…Youngjae bites his lip, willing those thoughts away.

                 “I _almost_ gave up,” Daehyun continues, and suddenly his voice melts to a soft pitch, voice so _small_ that Youngjae almost doesn’t hear him. “But then I saw you. I saw you sitting there, outside the café, with eyes that looked exactly like mine. Like someone who got their heart ripped out and couldn’t take it back. Just looking at you made me realize I was wrong. I thought love didn’t exist and that I was a fool stuck in my daydreams, but there you were, proving me wrong.”

                Youngjae shakes his head, not understanding Daehyun’s implications. “What are you talking about?”

                “You were hurt, too,” Daehyun says with a bittersweet smile. “You, like me, were hurt because _you loved someone with all your heart,_ but they broke it. When I saw that there were other people like me who loved others so sincerely, I realized I was wrong. I realized that I _can_ find love, a _real_ love. And I promised myself that for every moment I wasted with the one who cheated on me, I would repay them all with another moment spent loving someone who _deserves to be loved._ To love someone who hurts like I do, who _loves_ like I do: _with all his heart.”_ Daehyun steps forward once more, reaching out to take Youngjae’s hand again, and when Youngjae doesn’t pull away, he whispers, “And I found that someone in _you,_ Yoo Youngjae. I _know_ you would love me with all your heart, just like I would love _you_ with all of _mine_.” He lets out a shaky breath. “But that can only happen if you _let us_ fall in love.”

                Youngjae’s gaze drops to their hands, and he closes his eyes, unable to will his tears to stop. “Why won’t you give up on me?”

                Daehyun smiles again, that same loving smile he’s bestowed Youngjae with so many times before. “Because I’m a hopeless romantic, and I believe that people like us, people who have had their hearts broken over and over again, deserve to find their own happy endings.” Daehyun swallows down a lump in his throat, his grip on Youngjae’s hands tightening ever so slightly as he coaxes him to meet his eyes once more. “The world is an unfair place, I know. You can give your all to someone who doesn’t give a damn about you and they will go ahead and give their all to someone _else_ who doesn’t give a damn about them. People see things like _love_ as a weakness, mistaking cynicism for realism and apathy for intelligence. Too many are too quick to accept the world as it is, but I don’t want to. I _know_ this world has more to offer than lies. I know because this world has people like _you,_ Youngjae.” Daehyun then reaches up, cupping Youngjae’s cheeks with his hands and gently swiping his tears away. “And that’s enough for me to keep going. _You are enough.”_

Youngjae stares back at Daehyun, stunned by his words, tears dispelling by his touch.

                It’s almost _scary_ how easily Daehyun manages to take his breath away.

                “You don’t even know if that’s true,” Youngjae breathes out. “You think I’m a good person, like I won’t turn around one day and cheat on you, too. Sure, we were friends, but you’re still risking your heart, you're risking your _everything_ for _another_ person who can easily throw you away.”

                Daehyun gives Youngjae a warm smile. “Because that person is you, I’m willing to take that chance.”

                Youngjae gazes helplessly into Daehyun’s eyes, reveling in the depth of his irises before shakily whispering, “But I’m _scared,_ Daehyun. A _chance_ is just a pretty word for a _risk.”_

                Daehyun stares back at Youngjae before moving to brush the latter’s bangs from his eyes. “It’s okay to be scared,” he says. “It’s okay to worry, it’s okay to cry, and it’s okay to run away sometimes. It’s okay to feel the way you feel, just like it’s okay to let yourself fall in love again.” Daehyun smiles, his eyes glimmering with that same spark of hope he had the day they first met. “A risk, a chance, that’s all I ask for. All I ask is for you to give _us_ a chance anyways.”

                Youngjae feels his heart flutter in his chest. He sees that future again, that future of color and music and stories they’ll share for a lifetime. He sees it all in Daehyun’s eyes.

                Daehyun’s touch is light, gentle like he always is. He looks as if he wants to kiss him.

                Youngjae decides to take the chance and lets him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
